In Paris With You
by Blubelles12345x
Summary: They wanted to be in Paris, alive, together. But they knew they never could be. Delena oneshot, now fixed/updated! AH/AU deals with grief and character death, therefore rated T, enjoy!


In Paris With You

The world, to her, was bleak, lifeless and grey. They storm clouds rolling across the dark, livid sky seemed to follow her no matter where she went. Looking across the quaint square, her emotionless eyes only saw the sinister, black shadows cast by a gloomy sun; she was not willing to see the blinding haze of bright, joyful sunlight, or the blissful, carefree faces surrounding her petite form as she was engulfed in an endless pit of misery. The tortured young woman was only capable of noticing the darkest parts of the world, because her cold, grieving eyes were tainted by the mangled, charred glass of her own sadness. No matter how many layers of rich, designer cotton and wool she draped across her slender figure, she knew in her heart that materialistic things meant nothing.

Although she wanted to be in Paris with him, she knew she never would be.

He looked on into the graveyard. The graveyard filled with a sea of endless, unknowing faces. He watched one particular soul, the most beautiful soul he had ever seen; stumble obliviously across the crowded patch of concrete. The soul's face was marred by a fierce, crushing sadness he knew of only too well. The soul seemed to be alert, yet he could tell by the tired stance of her small body that she had been granted a momentary escape from reality. But, unfortunately, as it always does, reality makes itself known. For this particular soul, her reality was in the form of a tiny, squirming, sugar coated mass of a toddler.

He cried out softly, the sound unheard by the crowd that gathered in the square, realizing that he would never truly be in Paris with her.

Smiling gently down at the small shrieking mass of her infant son, she guided him over to a small bench to the west of the square. The child giggled as she wiped the sugary residue from his tiny hands. Laughing softly, she rocked him slowly in her arms. Looking down at his innocent face, a solitary tear rolled silently down her rouged cheek.

Her gaze was filled with longing, for the angelic features that made this boy belonged to the one man she would never see again, the one man she would never hold and the man her son would never have the privilege to call 'Father'. She shook her head softly, banishing those unbearable thoughts from her cluttered mind.

Gazing across the diminutive, crowded space, she quietly mused about the dream she had finally achieved. No, the dream they had finally achieved. She was in Paris, at last. Her lifelong goal, powered by her love for the man who fathered her son, had been fulfilled.

As she lovingly gazed at her little boy, she knew that even if she did not have him by her side, she was in Paris with a small part of him.

Locking eyes with her, the man saw the pain she undoubtedly felt, pouring from those distressed, obsidian irises. He watched with pity as she clutched the infant's small figure to her chest, breathing heavily. Footsteps echoed as he walked towards her, stopping mere feet from her and the small boy.

His arm reached out slowly, resting his cold, ivory hand on her frail shoulder, mimicking the gesture he often used to use to comfort her in times of need. The man watched her smile slightly, her left hand slowly caressing the toddler's wavy hair. Hair that, he noticed, resembled his own completely.

Stopping abruptly, his hand shot back as if he had placed it on an open flame. A lump formed in his throat, causing him to choke out a strangled cry. Stepping back, his eyes opened wide as he contemplated the situation he had found himself in.

It couldn't be, could it? The child's twinkling eyes and wavy locks must be a coincidence. Is it possible? Weary eyes gazed at the small boy, the man's brain silently counting backwards through the long months during which he had been mercilessly taken from her. Looking lovingly at the infant, now slumbering on his mother's lap, he smiled.

Even if he couldn't be in Paris with her, a little part of him could be.

Sitting hesitantly on the cold bench, the grieving woman silently watched the crowd pass by. She jumped as she felt a cold breeze pass over her shoulder. Smiling gently, she mocked herself for being so naive, as she could have sworn, for just a second, that a hand had caressed her shoulder. Her delicate hand stroked her child's sleepy head absentmindedly, wondering where her love was now.

This modern girl was not a religious person, not at all. But if she was to pick who she thought was the most deserving person on this small planet to go to heaven, it would be him, always him. He had been taken so suddenly, so appallingly from her on that night two years ago, without any mercy or pity. The plane to Paris that would have brought them together never left the runway; therefore a promise was made for her to one day return to the beautiful country, in which they had met, and scatter his ashes right here, in this beautiful, angelic square.

She stood, taking an ornate vase out of her purse. Walking over to the small flowerbed filled with pale pink roses, she crouched down, crying softly. The small child stood silently, watching his mother's actions in awe, his bright, glittering green eyes trained onto the young woman's shaking figure. Kneeling among the long, slender, she silently spoke a prayer to the blue sky. Softly whispering farewell, shaky hands pried open the lid of the small vase, and proceeded to scatter the grey, lifeless contents onto the peaceful scenery around her. Blowing a kiss, she bowed her head in defeat. The pale, sad girl took the small child's hand, and walked away.

Her eyes surrendered to her grief as a sad smile graced her lips, knowing that her soul would always, truly be in Paris with him.

The lonely man watched her empty the contents of a small jar onto the beautiful greenery. A hand desperately tried to reach out to her, yearning to softly brush away the harsh tears that lingered on her angelic face. Shaking arms begged to hold her in a loving embrace as she mourned, but alas, they could not. They could not because the arms belonged to a man that was dead. The dead figure followed her to the edge of the square, unable to think of her leaving; it had been so long since he had seen her radiant, breathtaking face.

Reaching out his hand, he gasped in agony and shock as a thick, unmoving, black handcuff wrapped itself around his porcelain, translucent wrist. Glancing down at his bare feet, he found an identical pair of shackles binding themselves to his ankles. The desolate ghoul searched around, looking for the culprit of this unforgivable punishment.

The thick, infuriated chains lay in a winding path leading to the very scenery that the ashes had been scattered across moments before,'his ashes' he reminded himself. The man, his face contorted into an expression of absolute agony, cried out as the menacing chains slowly began to drag him towards the display of flowers where his mortal body now lay. Pale hands grasped at the unyielding chains, pulling with all their strength, but to no avail.

Now seemingly bound to the plants, he gazed at the two retreating figures. Shouting out to them desperately, he noticed the little boy's step falter and stop, his small, chubby hand grasping his mother's skirt, tugging in an attempt to gain her attention. She leant down, scooping the impatient infant into her arms. However, at this moment, the most remarkable thing happened.

The small child, innocent eyes filled with a strange look of understanding, looked over to the heartbroken soul, bound by unending chains. The toddler raised his pudgy arm, waving and giggling gleefully as he shouted 'Bye Bye!' to the agonized ghost. The very same ghost looked on in shock, before smiling and laughing in bewilderment. He sighed, before lowering his head. A feeling of utter peace spread through his body, he could leave now. As he began to fade, he never removed his eyes from his one true love and their child.

Even if he couldn't be by her side, he knew that his soul would always, truly be in Paris with her.

The End.


End file.
